


Warp and Weft

by SuddenlyTentacles



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Exiled Prince: A Prince Lotor Fanzine, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 10:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18618574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuddenlyTentacles/pseuds/SuddenlyTentacles
Summary: Prince Lotor has a vision for his father's empire, but first he will need to inherit it. No small task for any child of an immortal god-king— he's going to need allies.





	Warp and Weft

**Author's Note:**

> My submission to Exiled Prince, a Lotor fanzine. There's technically no ship in this, but my keitor bias shows pretty clearly. Call it pre-slash I guess.

The only sound that disturbed the chilly, fogged forest around Lotor was his steed’s breath, the pale horse beneath him snorting with impatience as he held its reins tightly to keep it in check. It shook its mane and pawed the ground, but did not take a single step forward as Lotor waited in silence. 

Wood cracked in the distance. His ears twitched, straining for more information, but he kept his eyes forward and his expression bored. They were not as far from the human village as he would have liked, and their quarry had not been quite as isolated among its people as he’d expected-- the chance of a human stumbling into their hunt, deliberately or not, was not so slim he could justify breaking formation.

Wood creaked, then cracked again— Zethrid roared in triumph, and Ezor’s whoop of joy rang out behind her. Lotor’s horse snorted excitedly and tossed its head, all but prancing in place, but Lotor was not so quick to celebrate. He settled the beast with a firm word and a hand on its withers, quieting it in time to hear a distinctly unfamiliar voice cry out and fall silent. The hush that followed was short lived; footsteps rattled through the underbrush moments later, and then his generals materialized through the fog.

Acxa led the way, crossbow angled at the ground and eyes forward as she marched towards Lotor and came to a parade rest before him, saluting with a firm _thump_ of her fist against her breastplate. Zethrid strolled into the clearing behind her, dragging their struggling quarry behind her one-handedly by his bound wrists. Ezor followed closely, twirling an unfamiliar dagger in her fingers with a smug smile, and Narti stepped up to his steed’s shoulder from just out of Lotor’s line of sight as if materializing from thin air, Kova curling around her shoulders. 

The young man Zethrid hurled to the ground in front of him was not what he’d expected when they’d set out on this little venture. He looked almost entirely human for one, with pale beige skin and white sclera, and a trickle of red blood dripping down his temple from his dark hair. He was frankly rather small, even by human standards. Lotor leaned forward in his saddle to look down at their quarry as the boy pushed himself up out of the loam with a pained grunt and sat back on his heels, kneeling at the center of the rough circle Lotor and his generals formed. He struggled to sit upright, swaying slightly in place and breathing harshly. The dark eyes that met Lotor’s were dazed but fierce, and the boy set his jaw grimly with a proud lift of his chin. Good.

“The last scion of the Blade of Marmora,” Lotor announced, letting the words roll slowly off his tongue, heavy with satisfaction. The boy flinched at them, his eyes widening briefly in shock before narrowing again, and he spat blood on the leaves at Lotor’s feet. “It is truly a pleasure to finally meet Lady Krolia’s only child,” he continued, beckoning to Ezor. She strolled around their prisoner to Lotor’s side and offered the dagger she carried with a lazy flourish. Keith’s jaw tightened even further as Lotor took it, watching Keith’s reaction closely. His expression darkened the longer Lotor turned the blade over in his hands and made a show of admiring it. “Am I incorrect in assuming you know who I am as well?”

“ _Lotor_ ,” he hissed. Lotor raised an eyebrow at the sheer venom in his voice and Acxa stepped forward instantly, bringing her crossbow up swiftly to press the wicked tip of the loaded bolt to their prisoner’s temple. Keith swallowed visibly, but his eyes only flickered toward her for a moment before re-affixing themselves to Lotor’s with a burning fury. 

“You will address _Prince_ Lotor properly,” Acxa uttered coldly. 

“Now Acxa,” he said gently, raising a hand. She lowered her crossbow and stepped back as smartly as she’d stepped forward, her face steely and displeased. Lotor tucked the Marmora blade into his belt and dismounted, handing his steed’s reigns to Ezor and stepping around her to stand before his prisoner. “What fealty can we ask of one stripped of his birthright? Of one stripped of his clan and all its comforts?” Keith shrank from words— not in fear, but in fury. He coiled like a snake where he knelt in the loam, his lips twisting slowly into a silent snarl as Lotor spoke. “How can we ask him to kiss the ring drenched in the blood of his own mother?” he said softly, idly adjusting the large signet with his father’s symbol on his finger.

Keith lunged, silently, and with impressively little telegraphed. He might have reached Lotor, if Lotor had not been waiting for the very same attack. His armored boot caught Keith full in the chest, knocking him onto his back with a pained wheeze. Lotor was on him before his Generals could snarl in shock, pressing the edge Keith’s own dagger to the delicate skin behind the corner of his jaw. Keith froze beneath him, eyes staring in blind wide shock at the sky beyond the treetops. Lotor waited a moment, watching the boy’s pulse flutter frantically beneath the blade as he gasped for air, and then sighed heavily.

“Kolivan spoke the truth. You were truly abandoned to the humans.” Keith flinched, his eyes rolling around to Lotor’s face with the same blind shock. “You don’t even know what this blade is capable of, do you?” Silence.

“So what, this was just a waste of time?” Zethrid growled. 

“No, not at all.” Lotor pulled the blade away from Keith’s throat and stood, casually stepping away to a more prudent distance. Keith remained where he was, watching Lotor with wary confusion. Good. “He is still their rightful lord, and their hope for the future. If he cannot persuade them to join us, no one can.” Fury blazed in the boy’s face, burning away the confusion as he half-scrambled to his feet— and froze again with bared teeth, as Lotor summoned his blade to his hand from the ether and his generals drew their weapons as one, prepared now after his first outburst. 

“I’m not going to be your _fucking_ hostage!” Keith spat.

“I should certainly hope not,” Lotor said coolly. “I don’t have the time or the resources to squander on keeping you safely contained. It’d be far more trouble than you’re worth, particularly when holding you captive would most certainly _not_ endear me to the Marmora.”

“End— maybe you should have thought about that before you _killed_ half of them!” Keith snarled, trembling with rage. Lotor sighed, ignoring the urge to massage the headache he could feel forming in his temples. 

“Why did your mother leave you her blade?” Lotor asked. Confusion flickered in Keith’s face, but he clung to his anger with gritted teeth, silent. “Think,” Lotor said slowly. “Why would the single most successful assassin in the land leave her most valuable tool with a helpless infant?” The anger remained, but his confusion and wariness bled through steadily as Lotor spoke. Lotor plunged the tip of his sword into the earth, unwilling to banish it properly with their prisoner on his feet, and drew the dagger from his belt again. The symbol on its hilt glowed fiercely against his dark glove, but the boy only stared at it hungrily, uncomprehending. 

“The Marmora use luxite blades. They are bound to the blood that quenched them at their forging, and they draw their power from their master’s spirit.” Keith’s eyes widened, flicking rapidly between Lotor’s face and his mother’s blade. “If your mother was dead, this blade would be dark.” 

Silence stretched through the clearing.

“You’re lying,” Keith whispered. Tears glimmered at the corners of his eyes. 

“No, I am not.” Lotor drew a second dagger from the small of his back, and showed Keith the lightless hilt. Keith went rigid, and his eyes widened even further with horror.

“ _Regris,_ ” He breathed. Lotor nodded. Keith squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his chin to his chest tightly with a shuddering gasp.

“He fell into a trap meant for another.” Lotor said somberly. He eased his way closer, stepping softly and slowly until he was in arm’s reach of the boy. “I am sorry.” 

“If you’re so _sorry—”_ he spat, head snapping up, “Then why—” 

Lotor watched keenly as Keith’s eyes darted between the two blades, one dark and one bright, his brows knitting closer together with each glance. 

“Then why—” Keith cast his gaze around the clearing again, at Lotor’s Generals and the binds around his wrist, taking in his situation anew.

“…Why are you doing this?” He said, as slowly as someone stepping out onto the untested ice of a frozen lake. “Why would Zarkon order the clan wiped out and then keep us alive?” 

“He’s not,” Lotor said, “I am.” 

Finally, _finally,_ the boy looked at him. Not at Lotor’s rank, or his parentage, or the tales woven around his campaigns— Keith’s dark eyes searched Lotor’s face, and they were searching for _him_. Lotor felt triumph tugging at the corners of his lips, a satisfied smirk that bordered on smugness springing to them unbidden as Keith reeled himself in on his own curiosity. 

“As far as my father knows, I’ve slaughtered every single Blade I’ve come across.” Lotor continued. He reached out and carefully took the boy’s wrists, but Keith still startled slightly at his touch. Lotor ignored the flinch and the way Keith tensed as Lotor brought Krolia’s blade up— and sliced through his bonds. 

Keith remained frozen in his grasp for a heartbeat, then shoved Lotor’s hand away and staggered backwards— and froze again. Lotor’s Generals had started towards him the moment Keith moved away, and stopped just as quickly when Lotor raised his hand and clenched his fist in a silent signal. Keith stared up at him, eyes wild with confusion and disbelief, breathing fast and shallow with a fresh burst of adrenaline. 

“I am the only one who can protect you now,” Lotor said, slowly lowering his hand. “I found you, which means it is only a matter of time before others find you as well— others far more invested in carrying out my father’s orders. Others who will have no reason not to raze your village and its people to the ground.” 

“ _Why?_ ” Keith hissed again. Lotor sighed softly, and stepped forward into arm’s reach again. Keith tensed, his fists clenching, but held his ground.

“Tell me— What do you suppose an heir is worth to an immortal god-king?” 

Keith’s eyes flicked over him from head to foot. “Nothing,” he said flatly. Lotor nodded in approval. 

“Good. Then you understand when I say that an immortal god-king is worth even _less_ to an heir.” Lotor let venom bleed into the words and drip from each as he uttered them, a relief after swallowing it down each time he’d spoken for the past fortnight in his father’s court. Keith cast another look around the clearing at Lotor and his Generals before his gaze settled on Lotor again.

“You’re rebelling.” He muttered. There was a new light to his eyes, a more cautious, calculating one that weighed Lotor even as Lotor watched the wheels in Keith’s mind turn. Lotor dipped his head graciously in acknowledgment, then dredged up the heavy knot of grim determination he carried in his heart; it took effort to let it reshape the calm, collected mask that kept it hidden, but a flicker of surprise in Keith’s face told him he’d succeeded. Keith shook his head faintly. “That’s suicide.”

“It has been for many. I intend to learn from their mistakes. Chief among them, the belief that any single faction can stand against my Father. He did not splinter and scatter his enemies by accident.”

“You want the Marmora to help you.” Lotor nodded.

“They served the Emperor once, in order to serve our people. When my Father turned against his own subjects, they were among the first to stand against him, and they have paid dearly for it.” Lotor took another step forward, and set a hand on Keith’s shoulder cautiously. Keith bristled at the motion, but remained where he was, his eyes darting between Lotor’s hand and his face, searching for the trap. “I would see your clan restored to its rightful place— its rightful _purpose_ under my rule. Your rights, your lands, all of it returned to the Marmora as is only just.” 

It was faint, and guarded, but the hope that bled into Keith’s eyes as Lotor spoke was unmistakable. Keith sucked in a soft, sharp breath as Lotor’s last word struck true, and Lotor fought to hold down the swell of hope it sparked in his breast in turn. He waited in silence, gripping Keith’s shoulder as tightly as he dared. 

“…I don’t know how to get a hold of them.” Keith said, all but whispering. “I don’t even know if they’ll listen to me—” Triumph burst in Lotor’s chest, and he found himself grinning down at his new ally.

“Not to worry,” he declared, giving Keith’s shoulder a fresh squeeze. “You can leave the logistics to us. All I need from you is your trust, and your blade.” Lotor took Keith’s hand and pressed Krolia’s dagger into it without hesitation, along with Regris’s. “Let us begin.” 


End file.
